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“Would you like to discuss this, or fuck my brains out, Sir?”

“Trick question, love.” He reached between them, grabbed his cock, and got it lined up with the entrance to her pussy. She needed no further encouragement and eagerly impaled herself on it.

In the early days after Kaden had made his confession about their BDSM dynamic and his terminal cancer diagnosis, Seth had wondered how the hell he’d be able to take care of Leah. Keep her alive.

Hell, keep himself alive.

Now that they were a couple years past losing Kaden, they had settled into their own routine.

Still, sometimes those doubts returned, rising to the surface as they did today.

What would Kaden do?

Kaden would keep on keeping on the way he always had. Seth knew that was exactly what he needed to do, too. But doing it was another matter entirely than knowing he had to do it.

Trying to shelve the matter until after he’d finished making love to Leah, Seth kissed her, drowning out the mental cacophony threatening to distract him. At least when making love to her, all was right in his world. He eased them toward the shallow end of the pool so he could get his footing and properly fuck her.

“Come on, baby,” he said. “Don’t hold out on me. Give me one.”

She bit down on his shoulder as a familiar cry escaped her.

“That’s what I wanted to hear.” He sped up, catching up, finishing with her as one last gasp filled his ears and heart with the sound of her climaxing.

Sinking into the water until just their heads were exposed, he kissed her. “Trying to distract me with pool sex won’t change the fact that I need to get back into training with a whip,” he said.

She giggled. “No, but it did distract you for a few minutes.”

“Of course it did. It always does.”

* * * *

The next afternoon he was out in the backyard again. This time, it wasn’t just Leah watching him practice, but their friend Tony as well.

“She’s right,” Tony said. “You’re tensing up on the backswing. You’re overthinking it.” He stepped in and reached for the whip.

Seth thought Tony was going to take the whip, but instead he grabbed Seth’s hand around the whip and drew his arm back. “See? Like that. You’re coming too far past your centerline on the backswing and throwing it at an angle. Try it underhanded first a few times and get your confidence back.”

He did, nearly nailing himself in the nuts on the backswing.

Leah giggled. “You’re too tense.”

“Someone’s cruising for a week’s worth of tease and denial,” Seth shot back.

“Did you think about using a shorter one to practice with?” Tony asked.

“This is only a six-footer.”

“You might want to get your confidence back with a three-footer,” Tony said. “Once you’re consistent with a target, step up again.”

“You guys make this shit look easy and it’s not.”

He remembered the first time Kaden and Leah had worked with him with the whips.

They’d both made it look ridiculously easy. Which was kind of the point, because it took a hella lot of practice to get to the point where it did look easy and not like a drunk idiot was throwing it.

“I’ve seen you make it look easy, too,” Tony told him. “What’s so different now?”

“I don’t know.”

“I do,” Leah said.

The men turned to her.

“It’s been a while since we’ve taught one of these classes,” she said. “The other day, he was watching videos of Kaden practicing. Now he’s feeling like he’s not up to snuff.”

Seth’s face heated, but he didn’t respond.

Tony stared at him. “Well?”

“Hey, Kaden was a lot better at this shit than I am. He was a lot better at most things, if you didn’t notice.”

Leah stood and walked over to him, silencing him with a kiss. “No one expects you to be Kaden except you,” she softly said. “Least of all him. He told you to find your own way. Stop picturing Kaden in your head every time you throw that whip and start focusing on what the whip actually feels like in your hand.”

He
really
didn’t want to admit she was right.

But she
was
right.

Too bad it took that damn long to click in his brain, and that it took her to point it out to him.

She pointed at the target.

Seth turned. Taking a deep breath, he closed his eyes and tried to picture what it felt like once he’d started getting the hang of throwing a whip.

Yes, he had been trying to imitate Kaden in the videos, now that he thought about it. He’d tried to imitate his friend’s form, even though his friend had been built differently than him and had been an expert with a whip for years.

Opening his eyes, he focused on the feel of the whip, the plaited leather, the shot-weighted handle, the length of it. He held out his left hand, pointing it at the target the way he used to do when he was first learning, but it felt right even if it was technically a step back.

This time, when he threw, he did it gently, easily. Carefully. Maybe not the best throw, or the snazziest one, but the napkin danced a little on the clothespin as the popper made contact with it.

“There you go!” Leah said, slapping him on the back. “Do
that
. And keep doing
that
.”

She and Tony stepped out of the way while he tried again. And again.

And again.

An hour later, both his arms were sore, but he was finally thinking maybe he’d gotten his mojo back.

“Better?” Tony asked him..

“Yeah. Thanks for coming by.”

“Hey, no problem. Shay’s up in Bradenton covering an elementary school art festival or something. I really didn’t feel like going, so you gave me a perfect excuse to bail.”

“Glad I could help.”

Once they were alone again and back in the house, Leah stepped up behind him and encircled his waist with her arms. “Thank You, Sir.”

“For what?”

“For not giving up. For trying even though you were frustrated. And for listening to us when we told you what we thought was wrong.”

“Ah, you thank me now. Just wait until I’m using that on you at the club next weekend.”

She giggled. “I’ll still be thanking You then, Sir.”

What do you know? Old dogs can be taught new tricks…

* * * *

Mike’s dice softly clicked together as he rolled them into the felt-lined tray he used. “Eighteen…” He counted in his head. “Twelve modifier. Thirty.”

“Dammit,” Axel, their DM muttered. “You pick the lock.” Next to him, his phone went off, the wheezing, gasping sound of the TARDIS taking off. “Aaaand that’s the night, kiddos. I have to get home.” He closed his notebook and started gathering his things.

Mike’s friend, Rusty, leaned back in his chair. “You sure you don’t want to hold game night somewhere else for a while? I kind of feel like we’re mooching off you guys.”

Rusty’s wife, Eliza, smacked his shoulder with the back of her hand. “You aren’t volunteering me, barbarian. Not until
someone
gets that hole in the drywall patched where Booger tried to eat her way through to the guest bathroom three weeks ago.”

Booger was their nickname for Boo, their fifty-pound Old English bulldog.

Which apparently had developed a sudden craving for drywall.

Rusty looked a little abashed. “I said I’d get to it,” he muttered.

“Yeah, well, no guests until you do. If you wait too much longer, I’m going to yank your gaming privileges until it’s fixed.”

Rusty pouted. “You wouldn’t do that, would you?”

Jenny, Mike’s wife, laughed from where she stood in the kitchen doorway. “I bet she would,” she said.

“Kailey’s home on break from school,” Eliza said. “She has to use our bathroom because where the hole is, you can see right through to the toilet.”

“Why did Boo try to chew through the drywall?” Mike asked.

“Who knows?” Eliza said. “She’s ‘special.’” She used air quotes around the word. “Apparently there was something or someone in the bathroom she wanted, and
someone
had left the door closed while he wasn’t home.”

Another glare shot in Rusty’s direction.

“I said I’m sorry, okay?”

“I don’t get it,” Jenny said. “What did that have to do with anything?”

“If we’re not home,” Eliza said, “we can’t leave doors closed to rooms. She won’t mess with closets, just rooms. I guess she goes looking for us and knows we go into rooms. If we’re home, she’ll sit outside the door and bark until we let her in. She tried clawing her way through our bedroom door when she was a puppy.”

Their friends gathered their things, said their good-byes, and five minutes later Mike was locking the front door behind them. He turned and pointed at Jenny.

She yanked her sundress off and dropped it onto the table, a sultry smile on her face. “Yes, Sir?”

“That’s better. Over the back of the couch tonight, I think.”

In the year since Jenny had convinced Mike to try a BDSM dynamic, their love life had exploded in a good way. Their twenty-six-year marriage felt new again, especially with their son off to college up in Tampa.

Jenny, now wearing nothing but a fuck-me pair of sandals and a smile, sauntered over to the couch, rolling her hips with every step and damn well aware of what she was doing to her husband. He worked on his belt and zipper as he joined her behind the couch where he grabbed her by the neck and shoved her forward over the back of it.

“Legs wide apart, baby,” he said, freeing his cock.

This was part of the reason he liked having game night here. Because as soon as their friends were gone, he could bend Jenny over whatever piece of furniture he wanted and fuck her silly.

Usually after spending the evening teasing her every chance he got with a stolen fondle or a quietly issued order to go insert a butt plug or vibrating egg.

Not tonight, though. He’d been running late from work and everyone else had been waiting on him when he arrived.

Tonight would be a simple, straight, delicious fuck.

After feeding his cock into her soaked pussy, he took a moment to pause, hands on her hips, enjoying the way her slick muscles grabbed at him. Then he lightly slapped her ass. “Maybe I should tie you up and fuck you tonight, baby.”

“You’re already inside me,” she teased.

“Doesn’t mean I can’t pull out.” He started to do that, noticing how she forced herself backward, trying not to lose contact with his cock.

A soft whine escaped her. “Don’t do that, Sir,” she begged. “I want you to fuck me. Please?”

Yes, at first he’d been nervous, hesitant.

Resistant.

Now he loved the sound of her begging, whether for a fucking or his new favorite thing, over-the-knee spanking with his bare hand. Everyone had warned him early on that his hard limits might expand the longer their journey through this continued.

Looked like their friends—and his boss, Tony—were all right about that.

He used his hands on her hips to shove her back against the sofa. “I thought I got to say how and when and where I fucked you, hmm?”

“Yes, Sir.” It was nearly a plaintive whine, now. “But I’m horny.”

“So am I.” Before she could further protest, he grabbed her by the hair, fisting it around his hand, and pulled her up. Leading her around the couch like that, he sat and pulled her over his lap.

She squirmed against him as he stroked her ass. “I think someone needs a nice spanking to get them in the mood.” He knew if he stuck his fingers in her pussy right then, she’d explode. He never went heavy on her with the spankings, just enough to make her ass a beautiful shade of pink and leave her tingling and close to coming.

With one hand pinning the back of her neck and the other on her ass, he started spanking her. The sharp sounds of his palm landing on her flesh echoed through the room.

After a moment, her squirming and squeals of pain soon turned into rhythmic humping and moans of pleasure as she found the sweet spot to rub herself against his thigh.

Hell, his cock was twitching, leaking pre-cum, close to exploding from the sight and feel of her body.

He thrust his fingers into her pussy and sure enough, she rewarded him with a long, low moan. Around his fingers her pussy contracted, pulsing, as he finger-fucked her. He used his thumb to rub her clit and enjoyed the way her toes curled, her hands drawing up into fists as she rode wave after wave of pleasure.

After he was sure she’d finished coming, he lifted her off his lap, bent her over the seat of the sofa, and knelt behind her. Once more, he sank his cock into her.

With a hand in her hair he yanked her head back. “Better, baby?”

“Yes, Sir,” she whined.

He reached around her with his other hand and started fingering her clit. “Don’t make me have to get the vibrator out to get another one from you. If you do, you’ll spend the night tied up with the vibrating egg in your pussy.”

She moaned again, responding, climaxing around his cock.

Yes.
That
.

Once he’d gotten it through his thick head that his domination of her could be more about pleasure than pain, he’d taken off with it. He loved tying her up and doing forced orgasm play with her, making her orgasm to the point she finally safeworded and he could then fuck her brains out.

And she loved it, too.

Now it almost felt like being newlyweds again, screwing like bunnies and wanting little more every day than to get home from work so he could figure out some new demented way to try to make her orgasm.

Once she’d finished coming yet again, he grabbed her hips and fucked her in earnest. This time, he wouldn’t stop until he’d finished and filled her.

And then she would turn around and suck him clean, something she’d decided she liked doing, and he damn sure wasn’t about to stop her.

She even gave him one last, smaller orgasm before his own swept through him. He dug his fingers into her hips, the sound of their flesh slapping together filling the quiet house, his satisfied grunt, her soft moan before they fell still together.